






Class 
Book_u 
Copyright N° 

COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT 



^ i(^^__i£_ 




is 



./* 



Digitized by the Internet Archive 
in 2011 with funding from 
The Library of Congress 



http://www.archive.org/details/storyofcaptainsmOOIitt 



THE STORY OF 
CAPT. SMITH AND POCAHONTAS. 



CAPTAIN SMITH AND 
POCAHONTAS 



tamtemr of tlfp Sfararatoaitt 
lExfinstttou 



By J. T. LITTLETON, A.M., Litt.D. 

Professor of Modern Languages, Southern University 
Greensboro, Ala. 



Nashville, Tenn.; Dallas, Tex. 

Publishing House of the M. E. Church, South 

Smith & Lamar, Agents 

1907 



~T" : f~ 
! AUG 2 30 

/776/o 



COPTRIGHT, I9O7 
BY 

J. T. Littleton 



FOREWORD. 

Virginia, motherland, breeder of men, whose rivers 
and seas, forests and fields, mountains and clouds first 
taught me to love God's handiwork that men call na- 
ture, whose story charmed the days of youth and in- 
spired manhood's endeavor — to thee, O homeland, 
this legend of thy first heroine, who seemed dimly to 
foresee trie passing of her people before the plowshares 
of thy more gifted children, I gratefully dedicate, 
in the fond hope that thy sons who read it may feel 
therefrom one-half the joy that came to me as its 
parts took final form in rhythmic words. 

J. T. Littleton. 

Greensboro, Ala., December 6, 1906. 

(5) 



CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

As It Was „ 9 

Introductory Sonnets 11 

Before the Battle 14 

His Capture 16 

Victory 19 

Matoaka Appears .23 

The Trial .27 

Teacher and Pupil 34 

The Squaw Maiden's Song 37 

She Was a Rivulet between Two Hills 39 

She Learns the Christ Story 46 

The Veil Rent 48 

Dreams 49 

Her Song 54 

The Old, Old Story „ 55 

Shattered Hopes 60 

Her Capture 62 

'Tis but Nature 66 

Her Supremest Act 71 

O Crystal Stream 73 

The Honeymoon 75 

Mother Love. 76 

An Old Story Retold 77 

Afterthoughts 84 

God over All 86 

Afterword 87 

(7) 



PRELUDE 



AS IT WAS. 

The earth seemed asleep 'neath the watch of the stars,, 

While night's kindly mantle enfolded the scars 

Of years on the hillsides, and nothing revealed 

Of the phantom-winged owl as she harried the field, 

Or the fox's light step as he crept on his prey 

That recked not the danger of innocent play. 

This hush of the night at the rise of the moon 
Like a dream was gone as the cry of the loon, 
Which floated from over the water so still, 
Evoked the wild laugh of the bird on the hill 
And the howl of the battle-scarred wolf as he stood, 
Awaiting his mate on the edge of the wood. 
The hearts of the sleepers beat fast at the sound, 
And trembling the fawn sought its dam with a bound. 

9 



AS IT WAS. 

O beautiful night ! with thy shadows of rest, 
Alike to each sleeper thou yieldest his quest ; 
But the lyric bursts forth into tragedy wild, 
As the cougar's fierce fangs hush the cry of a child. 
O the passions of Nature, untrammeled and free, 
Roll on till they burst like the waves of the sea ! 
The forest that never the ax's ring heard, 
The home of the savage, the beast, and the bird, 
All gloomy and gray, with its secrets untold, 
Stood silent, impassive, enchanted, and old. 



10 



INTRODUCTORY SONNETS. 



O red man of the days when thou wast king, 

Where slowly wound the stream through forest 

range, 
Where purple mist wrapped mountain top in haze, 
From sea to sea of every living thing, 
The story of thy life we fain would bring 

Within the range of modern search-light's blaze 
And know the secrets of those bygone days, 
Bereft of legend and of passion's ring ! 
But like a child that sporteth on the lea, 
Or bird that flieth from the autumn's cold, 
Or beast that liveth only in the hour, 
Thou child of nature ever wild and free, 

No law of past thy will had strength to hold 
And shield thee from thy passion's wanton 
power. 



INTRODUCTORY SONNETS. 
II. 

O thou disdainer of the broken clod, 

Thou laidst the burdens on thy womankind, 
Whose lot it was to plant and reap and grind 
The scanty grain that grew from grassy sod, 
As servile slaves obeyed thy every nod, 

Gave thee the flesh and ate themselves the rind, 
O Indian brave, thou didst but dwarf the mind, 
Estop thy growth, and break the law of God ! 
And yet sometimes above the herd 

Of instinct-driven men was seen the gleam 
Of one strong soul that burst its inbred bands, 
As from the creeping crowd a winged bird 
Uprose, and so forever did thy race redeem, 
And as the earnest of its future stands. 

in. 

Sweet Pocahontas, Indian maiden born, 

With thine we rank thy noble brother's name, 
Full worthy each of an immortal fame ; 

For when our nation in its lurid morn, 

12 



INTRODUCTORY SONNETS. 

A weakling in the wilderness forlorn, 

Was feebly struggling, swift to help ye came 
Impelled by innate virtues, put to shame 
The haughty Christians who thy people scorn. 
Thy life, sweet Indian maid, is fitting theme 
For poet's pen or sage's puissant brain ; 
Its beauty lures us, and we fain would know 
Its source. Thought-baffled, as before a dream, 
We ope our hearts as earth to summer rain, 

Nor seek to know, but gladly drink and grow. 



*3 



BEFORE THE BATTLE. 

Over the hilltops the ospreys glide, 
Silently searching the darksome stream, 
Where in the sunlight the fishes gleam ; 

Deep in the thicket the red men hide, 

Wonderingly watching the white man's craft,. 
Threading its way as a sleuthhound slow 
Silently trails where the swift prey go, 

Nervously holding the arrow's shaft. 

Wary, they waited with careful hush, 
Eager as panther on moss-grown bough, 
Deer underneath, for the white man's prow 

Nearer to glide ere the fatal rush, 

Straight from the cord, of the deadly dart 
Once and again as the painted yawl 
Glided in range did the red men crawl 

Farther ahead ; for they lacked the heart 
14 



BEFORE THE BATTLE. 

Strong to attack such an unknown foe, 
Till at the last, when the leader's hand 
Waved to the rowers to turn to land, 

Prone on the earth they laid them low. 

Springing ashore with his Indian guide, 
Bravely the captain his men addressed, 
Bidding them anchor in stream and rest, 

Till with his comrades at eventide 

He should return unto them again. 

Into the forest's calm depths he passed, 
Silent as shadows that cloud-isles cast, 

Once and forever from boat and men. 



IS 



HIS CAPTURE. 

They sought not their rest at anchor, 
Those men in the painted boat. 

For they thought no more 

Of their leader gone 
As they leaped to the longed-for shore. 

Like children they carelessly wandered 
And strayed near a darksome copse. 

As the arrows sped 

For their living marks, 
Fear-struck they turned and fled. 

The terrible war cry followed 
And rush from the friendly cover, 

And the white men, caught 

Like beasts at bay, 
In desperation fought. 
16 



HIS CAPTURE. 

The whiz of a winged arrow, 
And yell from a savage foe, 

And a white man lay 

On the virgin sod, 
And bled his life away. 

A roar from an iron musket, 

A cry from a skulking foe, 

And a red man's soul 
In that lonely wood 

Had reached forever its goal. 

Together then rushed the fighters 
As bees in their death embrace. 

While with keen-edged knife 
Or with club of stone 
Each sought the other's life. 

And there in the wood primeval, 
Grim food for the vulture and wolf, 
Lay the Indian's prey 
By the streamlet's brink 
Awaiting the judgment-day. 
2 17 



HIS CAPTURE. 

The combat was quickly over; 
Outnumbered, the white men fell 

To a man, save he 

Who had fought with death 
And won across the sea. 

Pursued by the savage trailers, 
He knew that the game was lost ; 
So he gave his gun 
To the nearest brave 
In token of victory won. 

Forthwith in revengeful spirit 
For those of their number slain, 
And to assuage their grief, 
They resolved to burn 
Alive their captured chief. 



18 



VICTORY. 

Calmly gazing at his captors 

Dressed in bear skins and raccoon, 

On their features doubly frightful, 
Painted with the red puccoon, 

More like creatures of the forest, 
With the beast above the mind 

(Still the feelings in their faces 
Linked them surely with his kind) ; 

Seeing in them superstition 
Throttling with uncanny hand 

Every impulse of their bosoms 
Till it be as weak as sand — 

Quickly, as by intuition, 

Reckoning thus with reason clear, 
Captain Smith, Virginia's father, 

Casting off all marks of fear, 
19 



VICTORY. 

Drew from underneath his doublet 
Slowly forth his compass-case, 

Which he opened, deftly showing 
How beneath its crystal face 

Ever northward points the needle. 

Childrenlike, they fain would clutch, 
Feel the force that moved the magnet 

Which they saw but could not touch. 

Wondrous strange ! It was a spirit ! 

Was it gracious ? Was it wroth ? 
Though afraid, they hovered 'round it 

As the fire the evening: moth. 

Gone their wrath for very wonder; 

They forebore to strike him down. 
In an open council standing, 

They preferred to lead him round 

To their wigwams for their sachems, 
Squaws, papooses — all to see, 

As some wizard son of evil 
From beyond the mighty sea. 
20 



VICTORY. 

So they led him with great triumph 
To their tepees here and there, 

While their fears were softly fleeting 
As doth happen when the air, 

Moisture-laden, filled with specters, 
Haunting forest pool and fen, 

In the wonder of the starlight 
Bringing fear to forest men, 

Slowly while the morning dawneth 
Passes from the pool and fen, 

Bearing strangely and so weirdly 

Dread and doubt from hearts of i.i«m. 

Then the tide began its turning, 
First with eddies, ebb and flow. 

Rippling here and resting yondci', 
Hardly knowing how to go. 

Blood of kindred crying vengeance, 
Savage justice crying death, 

And the savage love of prowess 
Softly and with bated briath 



VICTORY. 

Whispering to adopt the white man, 
Paint him red and spare his life, 

Struggled daily with each other 
In a crafty, subtle strife. 

Though the odds were sore against him 

And the stakes his very heart, 
Yet the doughty English captain 

Calmly played his fearful part- 
Calmly, for the red papooses. 

For the girls and for the boys, 
From the fragrant wood of cedar, 

With his penknife fashioned toys. 

Winning thus the hearts of children, 
Softening thus the mothers' hate; 

Trusting God, he simply waited 
The unfolding 1 of his fate. 



MAT OAK A APPEARS. 

Beneath a gnarled oak the captive lay, 

And dreamed of hours agone beyond the blue 
Atlantic's restless sleep, when life was new — 

Brimful of promise as an April day 

That breaks in glory from the clinging night. 
As rosebud breaks from sepal's close embrace 
And blushes with the dew upon its face. 

So was the dream, as fair and sweet and bright — 

A boy at mother's knee; her fingers curled 
The ringlets on his brow ; a mother's kiss 
Upon his upturned lips ; a thrill of bliss 

And peace unknown to boyhood's careless world. 

While warriors of the wild their vigil kept 
As bronzed statues in the darkness grim, 
Until the dawn's full tide above the rim 

O'erflowed the twinkling stars, the sleeper slept. 



MATOAKA APPEARS. 

When sought the prowler some day-sheltered nook, 
The matin welcome from the forest rill, 
From river's bosom and from crest of hill, 

Awaked the sleeping braves beside the brook; 

And from the wigwam peered a brawny squaw, 
Repulsive in her woman's form and hard, 
And sly and cruel as the savage pard 

That nature fashioned from the first for war. 

A lissome figure, graceful as a fawn 

In autumn time, slipped from the wigwam's shad' 
And softly on the sleeper's doublet laid 

Her hand, and gently pointed to the dawn. 

A soldier of the proud Caucasian race, 

Undaunted as the knight of old who knew 
No fear and no reproach, he brushed the dew 

From doublet which he tossed with courtly grace 

Upon a mossy trunk. With wave of hand 
He bade her sit thereon, while at her feet 
Upon the leaves he stood, as seemed meet 

Before the princess of the forest land. 



MATOAKA APPEARS. 

As when the landsman first upon the deep 
Awaits with awe the lifting of the cloud 
That veils the silent sea as with a shroud, 

The mighty sea that seems to breathe asleep, 

So waited she with puzzled brow and mien 
The further movement of the stranger brave, 
Who seemed as pale as petals of the cave 

Untinted by the sun-ray's glorious sheen, 

And yet completest type that her rude brain, 
For aeons dwarfed by savage life's ideal 
That reached not up to know the great unreal, 

Could grasp by dint of effort fraught with pain. 

As now he looked upon this maiden rare, 
A forest floweret blowing rich and wild 
With beauty all her own, an old chief's child, 

With eyes like stars of jet and raven hair 

That shone upon her cape of snow-white down 
Plucked from the wild swan of the Chesapeake, 
Her arms as shapely and her air as meek 

As any Old World maid's in velvet gown, 

25 



MATOAKA APPEARS. 



Straightway they passed, those dreams of long ago, 
Sweet solace to the tired, restless brain, 
And fierce, wild thoughts came back to him again 

How to outwit the cruel, crafty foe. 



26 



THE TRIAL. 

As when in Rome, on some great day of state, 
The people girded with full rings the sands 
To see the slaughter of some strange wild beast 
That hitherto had ever slain his foe, 
So round the wigwam of the forest king 
The red men gathered, silent as the trees, 
Grim watchers, winter-stripped of tenderness, 
That lifted limbs bejeweled with the frost 
And pointed upward to the snow-flecked blue. 
Within sat Powhatan, the Indian king, 
In savage splendor, solemn, still, and cold. 
About him buxom squaws of copper hue, 
His queens, in eager expectation bent 
Their glittering ferret eyes, now on the king. 
Now on the waiting braves who stood as stone, 
And now upon the stalwart captive's form 
Who stood sublimely bold, a sculptor's dream, 
27 



THE TRIAL. 

And searched the stolid faces turned to him 
To catch the faintest gleam of sympathy. 
But in the impassive features of his foes 
Fierce hatred waiting to avenge a wrong, 
And superstitious fears, the homage of 
The lower to the higher, stronger race, 
And admiration, struck as glittering sparks 
From stone and steel by clash of brave and brave, 
Was all his quickened vision could divine. 

Then from the solemn circle slowly rose 
An aged warrior, like some stately pine 
That winter's winds and snows had simply bent, 
Not broken. Silent as the lurking lynx 
Before his fatal leap, he stood until 
All sound was laid, all ears were keyed to catch 
His words ; then looking at the king, he spake : 

''The strong young oak is low upon the ground 
To pass as leaves that fall into the tide. 
The hand that slew the leaping panther ere 
His white teeth closed in throat of sleeping child 
No more shall draw the bowstring, hurl the spear. 
The hand that always from the hunt brought back 

23 



THE TRIAL. 

Red flesh to feed the wigwam's hungry ones 

Lies cold and still beneath the glittering snow. 

A few more winters and my feet shall lose 

Their swiftness and my hand its strength, mine eye 

Grown dim shall fail to track the deer, 

And I shall hungry lay me down to sleep. 

The warrior of my wigwam is laid low, 

And he who stands before us there, O chief, 

Hath killed my son, and liveth to my shame. 

I ask his life, a last sweet boon of thee; 

And thou art just who never spared a foe. 

The white man is the Evil Spirit's friend, 

Who shoots with thunder, not with bow and thong. 

My warrior brave, my hunter boy is cold 

As stone* I beg his slayer's life — that's all." 

Then Powhatan, with stately wave of hand : 
"Thy asked-for boon is thine. The white man dies, 
Unless thou'lt take him as thy son instead 
Of him now gone to happier hunting grounds." 

He paused and looked about him as to find 
Some better means of meting justice out 
Than shedding blood for blood that had been shed. 



THE TRIAL. 

But silence grim and vengeance-looking eyes 
Gave not the seeming wished alternative. 

"Go bind him," spake the king, "and lay his head 
Upon the stone beneath the oak that shades 
My tepee from the burning summer sun. 
Myself, your chief, shall crush the white man's skull. 
For 'tis no private wrong we right to-day : 
The quarrel is between the red and white. 
Give me the heavy war-club, black with blood. 
Sometimes the red man's club can louder speak 
Than white man's weapon, though it spitteth fire 
And roareth like the summer thundercloud. 
His life is forfeit who hath taken life." 

Two brawny braves the captain bound, and laid 
In solemn silence on the stone his head ; 
But ere his eyes forever closed on life 
They searched again the faces looking on 
In savage expectation of his end, 
Save one, a maiden's, which was strangely stirred. 
One moment, and the light was flashed from soul 
To soul (we know not how), and then he closed 
His eyes and calmly waited for the blow. 

30 



THE TRIAL. 

But ere the cruel club, which oft before 
Had spattered human brains and blood upon 
The rugged oak tree's gnarled and twisted roots, 
Now held aloft in Powhatan's right hand, 
Now swung in circle by his sinewy arm, 
Again had sought its goal of human gore, 
A girlish form had glided from the crowd, 
And swift and silent as the mother bird 
That, frightened, slips upon her nest again, 
Had lain itself upon the prostrate man 
And with a stifled cry encircled him 
With clinging arms about the neck and head. 

The weapon ceased its twirling in mid course, 
Stood poised awhile, then slowly sank to earth. 
Amazed, the savage king in silence gazed 
Upon his victim shielded by his child. 
Then seeing in the faces of his braves 
A gentler light o'ercome their cruel eyes, 
As admiration for the noble girl 
Supplanted lust for blood and greed of gore, 
He turned and, stooping, lifted her and said: 

"Matoaka, arise. Thou'lt have it so? 
3i 



THE TRIAL. 

'Tis well. At thy request I grant him life. 
Thou shalt no more be called Matoaka, 
Snow feather, light and lovely as thou art, 
And silent in thy tread as fall of snow ; 
But Pocahontas must thou be henceforth ; 
For as a rivulet between two hills 
Thou art unto the red man and the white. 
Go now, unbind and give him meat to eat; 
Henceforth he is my brother and my friend." 

The trembling maiden uttered not a word ; 
But brushing tears away, she softly smiled, 
Unloosed the thongs, and with a gentle touch 
Bade him arise and follow her into 
Her sire's wigwam, where she gave him food. 
And sunlit smiles played o'er her happy face, 
While he as in a dream ate meat and maize, 
Not knowing yet that he was wholly free. 

And so the savage council broke in peace — 
Its fruit seemed friendship sealed instead of blood 
And all the sickening horrors that belong 
To racial hatred, conquering but to kill. 
And wonder of a wise and noble foe, 
32 



THE TRIAL, 



Whose wisdom and undaunted courage stirred 
Their simple hearts with admiration not 
Unmixed with superstitious awe, had won 
Against the baser passion's innate cry, 
And savage man for evil rendered good 



TEACHER AND PUPIL. 

On a bluff above the river, 

Where the cedars, dark and green, 

Stand like sentinels in winter, 
Sighing for the summer sheen, 

Stood the maiden Pocahontas, 
Fairest floweret of the wood, 

Young in years but rich in spirit, 
Rounding into womanhood, 

In her cloak of fur and swansdown, 
Simple-hearted, true, and mild, 

All unconscious of her beauty, 
Innocent, sweet nature's child. 

She was giving all her being 

To the lesson of the hour, 
To her teacher whom she rescued 

From the avenger's vaunted power. 
34 



TEACHER AND PUPIL. 

When from maze of word and gesture 
One clear meaning she had drawn, 

As the specters of the starlight, 
In the growing light of dawn, 

One by one, and fast and faster, 

Passing into clearer view, 
Lay aside their weird suggestions 

And assume a well-known hue, 

Quickly came another meaning, 
And the words began to grow 

Clearer, as the light of knowledge 
Broke upon them all aglow. 

Apt the pupil, apt the teacher, 
Each to learn the other's art : 

He to her for life stood debtor, 
She had given him her heart. 

But she did not e'en in dreamland 
Whisper to herself the truth; 

And she seemed another being 
From the maidens of his youth. 
35 



TEACHER AND PUPIL. 

So he never guessed her secret 
While he wandered by her side 

Through the forest by the river, 
Where the wild things love to hide. 

She was teaching him her woodcraft, 
How the red men track the deer, 

Tread the pathless forest boldly, 
Guided by the eye and ear. 

So he learned the life primeval 
Of the Indians wild and free — 

Peace to-day and war to-morrow, 
Changeful as the restless sea. 



36 



THE SQUAW MAIDENS' SONG. 

When the wintry breath 
Of the wild east wind 
Fills the air with snow, 
Then the squaw maidens know 
That the hunter will find 
Where the geese fly low, 
By the driving snow 
And the sleet made blind 
To the swift-flying arrows of death. 

When the winds are still 
And the white drifts lie 
In the shimmering light 
Of the stars by night, 
Then the squaw maidens vie 
With the men of might, 
While they, silent and light 
As the owl's wings fly, 
Seek the turkey asleep on the hill. 
37 



THE SQUAW MAIDENS SONG. 

But to hear the call, 
In the first dim dawn, 
Of her lover near 
With an antlered deer 
Or a tender fawn — 

Of the sounds that cheer 
To the squaw maiden's ear, 
At even or morn, 
Is the gladdest and dearest of all. 

With a lightsome dance 
And a gladsome air, 
In their robes of loon 
And the rich puccoon, 
The squaw maidens bear 
For his feast at noon 
The flesh of raccoon 
And of turkey and hare 
To the wisest and best werowance. 



38 



SHE WAS A RIVULET BETWEEN TWO 
HILLS. 

And so these savage maidens of the wood, 
Unlearned save in nature's sternest school, 
Unto their foes were freely bringing life. 

At first the men of Jamestown, when they heard 
The strange, wild Indian song at edge of wood, 
Rushed madly for their arms to sell their scalps 
As dearly as they could. For tired though 
They were and weak for lack of wholesome food, 
Those pioneers were brave to recklessness, 
And little recked the lives of savage men. 

But lo ! instead of painted warriors, armed 
With bows that drave the arrow through the deer, 
And tomahawk of stone and spear of flint, 
With deer-thongs bound to shaft of toughened wood, 
There issued from the forest's depth a troop 
Of merry, dancing Indian nymphs arrayed 
In skins of beasts and birds — a comely band. 
39 



SHE WAS A RIVULET BETWEEN TWO HILLS. 

The puzzled white men, as the wood nymphs 
danced 
And, singing barbarous words to music crude, 
Drew near, looked half amused and half in fear 
Some wily stratagem was being played, 
Until he who had late their captive been 
The leading maiden recognized and spoke : 

"Art welcome to our town, Matoaka ; 
Art welcome, thou and all thy merry train." 
Thereat with hand extended Smith advanced 
To greet them, took the hand of her to whom 
He owed his life ; and, smiling on the rest, 
He led her to his men and made her known. 
She gave him then the baskets that they bore, 
Neat woven of the willow of the mead, 
And filled with meat and maize and tuckahoe, 
The simple food the wild men feed upon. 
And then the maidens, all with right good will, 
Began preparing for an Indian feast; 
The men looked on, not knowing what they said, 
Save him who from Matoaka had learned 
By signs and mixing tongues to talk somewhat. 



SHE WAS A RIVULET BETWEEN TWO HILLS. 

As children's recess hour, so the time 
Sped swiftly by ; for minutes lag not when 
The hand or brain is busily employed. 
And then they feasted like those master men 
Of old, who fought and died on Homer's page ; 
And those gaunt men beside the Powhatan, 
Like hungry wolves that after feasting play, 
Forgetting sternness, sported with their guests. 
But ere the pine tree's shadow twice its length 
Toward the east lay pointing, all the maids 
Had slipped away like swallows when the frost 
Begins to tip the leaves of gum with fire 
And turn the maple into sapphire, gold, 
And burnt sienna shaded wondrously, 
As only God's own brushes ever do. 
But ere they passed away within the wood 
Some precious trifle each possessed now stood 
For treasures in their simple hearts, as men 
Who boast a higher wisdom often hold 
That dearest which another values least. 

And afterwards those maidens came again, 
Until Matoaka alone feared not 
41 



SHE WAS A RIVULET BETWEEN TWO HILLS. 

To linger long among her new-made friends. 
But of them all the captain was her chief. 
And he who ne'er had dreamt of woman's love 
Was led about by this sweet Indian maid, 
By river's brink or in the forest's gloom, 
Together wandering until the older heads 
Began to shake and idle tongues to wag. 
But she was pure as brooklet from the snow, 
And he, so strong and noble, loved the child 
Whose life had risked itself to save his own, 
And meant no harm — nay, to shield from hurt 
He would have brushed his life away, nor thought 
One moment that he did a noble thing. 
And like to children playing on the tide, 
That swift and noiseless in its mighty flood 
Is bearing them resistlessly to where 
The seething billows gnashing wait their prey, 
They innocently sport and do not know 
The meaning of the quicker pulse-beat when 
Two hands are clasped and eyes look into eyes, 
As if they fain would see the soul itself. 
Illusion, howsoever long it lasts, 
42 



SHE WAS A RIVULET BETWEEN TWO HILLS. 

Shall pass some day before the light of truth, 
And two cannot be alway ignorant 
That time-defying chains have linked their hearts, 
E'en though they never outwardly confess. 

As when a garden seen is left to grow 

In foreign soil unaided in its fight 

For light with plants whose lives have ever been 

The prize that nature giveth to the strong, 

It suffereth much and wins, if win it may, 

By forcing food from root and light from leaf 

Of native plants. So' Jamestown suffered sore 

In those first days, and had, in self-defense, 

To levy on the red men of their store. 

The law of grasses is the law of men : 
Relentlessly the fittest live and push 
With glacial force the weaker from the way. 
'Tis naught to cry the brotherhood of man, 
The fatherhood of God ; for he who wrapped 
The trees in barks that mark their several kinds, 
And made the pine and oak wage ceaseless war, 
Set men apart and marked them in their skins, 
43 



SHE WAS A RIVULET BETWEEN TWO HILLS. 

And in their hearts race instinct planted deep 
That brooks no social plane nor mingled blood. 

Now Powhatan was but a savage king. 

And hungry Englishmen would have his bread. 

So Captain Smith, with men and guns and swords, 

To Weromoco sped, intent on food. 

The crafty king would trap the entire band, 

But Smith's life at his court was not in vain : 

He trusted only two of Indian blood. 

So aided by these two, Matoaka 

And Nantaquas, he deftly sprung the snare, 

And trapping trapper, freighted, all returned. 

Thereafter came alone or with her maids 
To struggling Jamestown Pocahontas oft 
With open gifts of food or secret words 
Of warning, knowledge gained of planned attack 
And bloody death to every Englishman. 
So deftly did she whisper in the ear 
Of him whose courage, tact, and wisdom marked 
Him first and chief of all, that when the foe 
Was greeted with the roar of culverins 
44 



SHE WAS A RIVULET BETWEEN TWO HILLS. 

Like skulking wolves that find instead of sheep 
An armed band of shepherds waiting them, 
They slunk away among the forest trees, 
And vengeance hushed its cry before the love 
Of Pocahontas, and there followed peace. 



45 



SHE LEARNS THE CHRIST STORY. 

Swiftly sped the winged hours, 

Till upon the eventide 
Of her setting out from Jamestown, 

With her people to abide, 

Pocahontas gently touched him, 

Pointed to the river's bend, 
Where they oft had stood together, 

Whispered: "Come with me, my friend; 

For when we are not together, 
When the days are passed for us, 

And my heart is of you thinking, 
I shall ever call you thus." 

So they passed unto the river, 
Where the stately cedars sighed 

To the breeze that curled the waters 
Of the slowly creeping tide. 
46 



SHE LEARNS THE CHRIST STORY. 

"Tell me once again," she asked him, 
"Of the God the English love; 

Stronger than the summer lightning, 
Gentler than the mourning dove." 

Then he told the wondrous story 
Of the Christ on earth with men, 

At whose word disease departed 
And the dead had life again. 

Loved to-day, despised to-morrow, 

Hated as an evil thing, 
On the cross he prayed forgiveness, 

From the grave arose a king. 

Passed above to reign forever 
In the lives of men below, 

Helping them to down their passions, 
More and more like him to stow. 



47 



THE VEIL RENT. 

As the stars looked down from their wondrous height 
On the earth enwrapped in the arms of night, 
With its darksome seas and its mountains old, 
With its tropic warmth and its arctic cold, 
O they saw no sight by their twinkling light 
That could half compare with the maiden there, 
As the finger of God touched her clouded brain 
And the murky mists, that forever had lain 
As a chilling shroud o'er the soul within, 
Seemed to stir and lift when the light broke in. 



48 



DREAMS. 

Down beside the silent river, 
Where the fishes love to hide, 

In the pool below the shadow 

Of the beech tree by its side, 

Stood our stalwart captain musing- 

'Gainst the tree at eventide — 

Thinking of the task before him, 

Like a mariner at sea, 
Short supplies and tired seamen, 

Winds adverse, a rocky lea, 
Struggling bravely till the turning 

Tide should bear the vessel free. 

O the tide seemed slow in turning ! 

Winds and waves would never cease f 
Red and white men ever watching 

For a breaking of the peace. 
Now his burthen seemed too heavy, 

And he fain would seek release ; 



DREAMS. 

Now the future's vista opened, 
And he saw his people strong, 

Sternly disciplined by nature, 
Grown into a mighty throng, 

Building well a noble nation, 

Loving right and righting wrong. 

Now he saw by jealous factions 
Progress tangled foot and hand, 

Wisdom gagged and Ignorance leading 
In the councils of the land, 

While the only one that knoweth 
Will not boldly take command. 

Take command and risk the anger 
Of the lords beyond the seas 

Drinking wine, the fruit of labor 
Offering to the vintner lees ; 

Taking ruthlessly the honey, 
Leaving comb for working bees. 

Take command and from the idle 
Hold his dole of daily bread 
50 



DREAMS. 

Till he set himself to win it 
By his hands or by his head, 

Holding firm unruly natures, 
Leading all who can be led. 

Schooling thus the weak and wayward 
Grown-up children, till they know 

Conquering self is life's great battle. 
Giving, granting as they go, 

Scattering beams of living sunlight, 
Luring life's sweet buds to blow. 

And he saw the untutored red man, 

Cruel, crafty as the pard, 
God's own handiwork from growing 

Vainly trying to retard, 
Narrow-skulled and superstitious, 

Brushed aside as useless shard. 

Still there came another vision, 
As he gazed upon the wave, 

Of the peerless Pocahontas, 
Daughter of an Indian brave, 



DREAMS. 

With her arms about him praying, 
Risking life his own to save. 

Later coming as the mother 
Bird unto her hidden nest, 

Bearing of the forest storehouse 
Food the choicest and the best 

Unto men disheartened, weary, 
Dying of a fruitless quest. 

Then his fevered fancy fashioned, 
As he gazed upon the marge 

Of the snow cloud in the blue, a 
Picture of some dreamland targe, 

And its beauty seemed to mock him 
Like some desert-born mirage. 

For he saw the Indian maiden 
Linked with him in real life, 

Helping to the true solution, 
As his legal, loyal wife, 

Of the things between the races 
That engender bitter strife. 
5^ 



DREAMS. 

And the picture held him spellbound, 
Dreaming of its beauty long, 

Till he caught from out the forest, 
Wonderfully sweet and strong, 

From the lips of her he dreamed of, 
The wild music of her song. 



53 



HER SONG. 

Over the river the wild fowl fly ; 
Over the west hills red's in the sky ; 
Home hies my brave one with love in his eye, 
Unto me, unto me ! 

Flyeth the white swan high in the blue ; 
Sparkleth the green leaf wet with the clew ; 
"Whispereth my brave one words that are true, 
"I love thee ! I love thee !" 

Whispereth my brave one, soft and low : 
"Breath of the winter wind's white with snow, 
Bright in my wigwam red coals glow; 
Come with me, come with me !" 

When the day dawneth the wild things hide; 
On to the sea moveth strongly the tide ; 
Into my brave one's heart softly I glide, 
Happy me ! Happy me ! 



54 



THE OLD, OLD STORY. 

So near as English words can catch it ran 
The song, and he who heard it flushed and went 
To greet the singer, wondering if she sang 
Of some young brave whom he had never seen. 
"How cam'st thou hither singing blithely as 
The spring bird when the dogwood is in bloom ?" 

"The news that bringeth Pocahontas thus 
Is good. She will not hide it from her friend. 
Matoaka naught hideth from the one 
Who knoweth more than wisest werowance. 
She found him not among her tribe, and came 
To seek him, having heard that soon the ship 
Would bear him from her eyes beyond the sea." 
"And wouldst thou miss me, should I go?" he asked. 
"Go ask the fawn if it would miss the dam ; 
Go ask the vine if it would miss the oak." 
"But he thou sangest of will heal the miss." 
"I thought not of the song ; I simply sang. 

55 



THE OLD, OLD STORY. 

Matoaka thinks not of Indian braves ; 
But tell me, art thou going hence to leave 
Alone thy people, who will surely die 
If thou art gone? Why go away?" 

They stood 
Beside the leaning tree, and then he spake 
So low and earnestly as ne'er before 
To any woman, and the Indian maid 
With wonder heard : then mingled doubt and joy, 
He told her how some people loved him not, 
Would take his life ; that he must go a while 
And then come back to spend his life among 
The red men and the white, to help them each 
To dwell in peace and help each other with 
The gifts that God had given unto each. 
As sweet narcissus after sudden rain, 
Refreshed but stricken, drooped her pretty head, 
Unable all to comprehend. 

"But if 
Thou goest, my people like a hungry pack 
About a bison herd, the leader lost, 
56 



THE OLD, OLD STORY. 

Will strew the grass with bleaching English bones." 

"Not so; for Pocahontas still shall keep 

Apart the red and white until I come 

And take her to myself, that in us two 

The white and red united as two streams 

That stronger flow as one into the sea." 

*T know not what thou sayest," she said, "except 
That after many days thou'lt come again, 
And I must buried keep the tomahawk 
Till then. Those other words I do not know." 

"When I come back thou'lt sing again the song, 
And slip into my heart and be my own, 
My wedded wife. This hand that rests in mine, 
This little hand is strong and true and dear 
Unto my heart, that pulses full its blood 
Responsive to its touch, as life is dear. 
Will Pocahontas bless her captain thus ? 
He awaits her answer now before he goes." 
Her fingers tightened 'bout his palm. Her eyes 
Sought his in one swift, penetrating glance, 
And then in dreamy wonder rested on 
The western rim that seemed to part the world 

57 



THE OLD, OLD STORY. 

Of shadows from the eternal world of light, 
While slowly passed from parted lips the words : 

"Matoaka hath loved thee long. She is 
Thine own to take when thou shalt think it best." 

" Tis well," the man replied ; "but see thou tell 
To no man aught of this until I come." 

And then, as in a revery, they turned 
And walked toward the lonely settlement, 
Almost as silent as the watching hare. 

As by some magic touch, the radius of 
Each life had grown to twice its former length ; 
A down the broader vista beckoning hands 
Seemed calling, gently calling on to where 
The broader, richer fields were waiting, ripe 
With rarest green, for their swift garnering. 
But when their comrades greeted them no words 
Betrayed their hearts, and yet a keen-eyed friend 
Their secret plainly read in eyes of each ; 
But held his peace until they both had passed. 

That eve the English captain bade farewell 
To her who loved him, little dreaming that 
No sun would ever shine on him aarain 



THE OLD, OLD STORY. 

With half the glory of the one just set. 
For shortly, burnt by powder, envy's work, 
'Tis said, he had forthwith to England sailed ; 
And then the bruit came back that he was lost : 
His stormy, checkered life had passed in wrath 
Of wind and wave, and now mayhap at rest 
Where roar of surf nor wind nor wave can fret. 
He was at peace beneath the Southern sea, 
Where flowers of the deep about him lend 
A weird beauty to the eternal calm. 

So ran the tale that Pocahontas heard 
From lips of Rolfe, a pious gentleman, 
And friend to each. As cast in bronze she heard 
The cruel words ; then turned and walked away, 
No more of her sweet will to come again. 



59 



SHATTERED HOPES. 

O Indian maid, with thy dream so fair, 

Like a wintry blast 

When the winter's past 
To blushing buds in the sweet spring air, 

The cruel words with their tale of woe, 

In a heartless way 

In thy heart that day, 
Its budding hopes with their breath laid low. 

O day when hope, like a weary child, 

Lies down to sleep 

On the great, great deep 
Of time untossed by passion waves wild! 

Immortal day, with thy somber light 

And thy dreadful gloom 

Of forecasted doom, 
More fearful far than the darkest night ! 
60 



SHATTERED HOPES. 

Thank God ! Thou canst not forever last ; 

For the tide moves on, 

And thou'lt soon be gone 
Unto thy niche in the pictured past. 

But still thy mark, as a living scar, 

On the cheek abides, 

Whate'er betides, 
May still be seen by the light of a star. 

For the days that dawn shall ne'er be fraught 

With the sheaves of gold 

That in the days of old 
Full-handed once to thy garner brought. 

Ah ! maiden — child — thy dark shall pass 

And thy gloom shall go 

As the winter's snow- — 
Beneath dead leaves are roots of grass ! 



61 



HER CAPTURE. 

And so from Jamestown Pocahontas passed, 
As summer bird before the autumn frost; 
And men, remembering at the twilight hour, 
When resting from the care and toil of day, 
The Indian maiden who had brought them meat 
When starving, saved them from her people's hate 
And with her simple truth had won their hearts, 
Spake oft of her in tones of sweet regret : 
So strong and mighty is the mystic power 
Of one rare life that lifts itself above 
Environment, as lily from the marsh: 
So strange and strong the mystic power of one 
Rare life that simply seeks its highest known 
Ideal to touch the hearts of common men ! 

The shifting zephyrs that forerun the storm 
And fill with dread the stoutest sailor's heart 
Seemed toying now about the quiet town, 
62 



HER CAPTURE. 

And thinking men took note of danger signs 
Too slight for breeding aught than dark unrest. 

The Powhatan his yellow waters bore 
In sullen silence to the Chesapeake, 
And sullen silence held the forest depths ; 
And men lived on in daily dread lest now, 
Those two away that stood between the white 
And red and held them strongly each from each, 
The pent-up passions of mad racial hate, 
Like waters freed by breakage of the dam, 
Would sweep in one wild rush each vestige of 
The English from beside the Powhatan. 

But days went by. The white men courage gained 
And fortified themselves 'gainst savage foes. 
And yet the dreaded war cry was not heard. 
Like cocks that spar and walk away and crow, 
The red men and the white but skirmished here 
And there, some wigwams burnt, some captives made,. 
While each with bluster kept his foe in awe. 

At last one Captain Argall bravely sailed 
On cruise of terror to the savage tribes, 
Perchance to effect release of captive men 

63 



HER CAPTURE. 

And further respite gain from certain war, 
For one cannot two masters serve ; no land 
Two peoples so diverse in blood maintain. 

Like some huge monster, neither fish nor fowl, 
The vessel wafted by the breeze's breath 
Majestic stemmed Potomac's ebbing tide. 
As cloud in silence floating o'er the blue 
By unseen hands propelled and piloted, 
The white-winged ship sublimely glided on 
The placid bosom of the peaceful stream. 

As God flung- out upon the western skies 
The pledge and promise of a morrow fair, 
His scrolls of colors blending into tints 
Transcending e'en imagination's ken, 
The sails were furled, the anchor dropped to hold, 
With flukes of iron buried in the sand, 
The ship at rest just where a lesser stream 
Its waters poured into the river's flood. 

When silver sheen of day lay on the waves, 
From out the shadows of the cove there crept 
Toward the ship an Indian's bark canoe. 
All eyes aboard were bent upon the man 

64 



HER CAPTURE. 

Whose easy strokes the ticklish craft impelled 
With scarce a ripple as the otter swims. 
While making fast his deerhide painter to 
The anchor-chain, the morning guest was seen 
To be a friendly Indian — Japazaws — 
A gudgeon quick to rob the baited hook 
And leave untouched the deftly hidden barb. 

When others later came to see the great 
Canoe and pale-faced men who slew 
Their foes with thunder, shy among them stood 
Matoaka, disguised among the maids. 
But Argall, keen of sight, and quick of wit: 
"Behold Virginia's Nonparella, men ! 
A bird worth trapping; see you know her not." 

And so for copper kettle and gay beads 
Old Japazaws, together with his squaw, 
Enticed the bird into the snare and wailed 
Aloud when Argall, with her safely trapped, 
Set sail. With such a talisman he had 
An under grip upon the forest king 
That wisely used would set his craft at naught 
And give the wearied English breathing time. 
5 65 



'TIS BUT NATURE. 

As the ship let go her anchor 
Close beside the crowded pier, 

On her deck stood Pocahontas 
Calmly listening to the cheer,— 

Gladsome greeting of the people 
She had left some months ago, 

Though the inward strife was mighty 
With the tears that longed to flow. 

Like the tide by east wind driven, 
Swiftly flooding all the marsh, 

Rose the tide of recollection, 

Overborne with memories harsh. 

All the gentler feelings gendered 
By the welcome warm and strong, 

Memories of her sad leave-taking 
And of him who did the wrong. 

66 



TIS BUT NATURE. 

Vengeance bade her seek the coward 
Who had sought her captain's life, 

Keep upon her bosom ever 

For his heart the keen-edged knife, 

Unto her for gentler uses 

Given by her absent chief, 
Destined now in awful calmness 

As the avenger of her grief. 

Learning later that the dastard 
Too had passed beyond recall, 

Stoiclike she calmly suffered 
Passion's whitest heat to pall. 

Just as rosebuds sorely bruised 

By the sudden summer rain, 
When the storm has passed beyond them 

Slowly lift their heads again, 

Pocahontas, wildwood blossom, 

When the storm had spent its wrath, 

Lifted slowly drooping petals, 
Scattered fragrance on the path. 
67 



TIS BUT NATURE. 

For the bud was now a blossom, 
Rich and sweet as summer air, 

Rain and sunshine ever nourish 
In God's garden wild and rare. 

Indian maiden, now a woman, 
Gone thy merry, childish ways, 

Fled before the face of sorrow, 

Ere had passed their rightful days. 

Pure as snow upon the mountain, 

Sweet as lily of the glen, 
Stronger than the stone the magnet 

Drawest thou the hearts of men. 

When the mocker sings his vespers 

In his honeysuckle bower, 
Soft and low the music floating 

Stirs, with strange and mystic power, 

Hearts of lonely men to longing 
For themselves a sheltered nest, 

For a little mate to love them, 
Help them win life's very best. 
68 



TIS BUT NATURE. 

While the trees by night were sleeping, 

Dimly lighted by the beams 
Of the half moon slowly rising. 

Sang the mocker in his dreams. 

Sang so sweetly that the sleeper, 

Pocahontas, dreaming heard 
Whispered words of deep emotion 

Sweeter far than voice of bird — 

Words that quivered with devotion, 
Sought and found her very soul, 

Such as once before had stirred her 
When she dreamed sweet love her goal. 

Pocahontas ! Pocahontas ! 

Canst thou thus thy heart's hurt heal ? 
With another link thy life and 

To the old be loyal, leal ? 

Yes, thou mayst when love hath left thee, 
When his first sweet song is sung, 

Set thee down and weep thy sorrow, 
With thy harp on willow hung. 



TIS BUT NATURE. 

Though thy tears may cease their flowing 
And thy harp may voice anew 

Love's old song in plaintive minor, 
Soft and tender, sweet and true ; 

For its soul is oft the memory 
Of those first enchanting chords 

Of life's music, felt most surely 
When lips gave love's first reward. 

Indian maiden, 'tis but nature 

In thee crying for her own ; 
If she cannot have the major, 

She will take the minor tone. 



70 



HER SUPREMEST ACT. 

How often we persuade ourselves that God 
Hath twined the tendrils of our hearts about 
Our fondest hopes, and nourished them, until 
They are grown into desires that bear his stamp, 
And passion's fruit becomes the will of God I 

So Master Rolfe in Pocahontas saw 
The hand of God to lead into the light 
Her savage people through the crucial test 
Of healing racial hate by mingling blood. 

Though she were beautiful as Sharon's rose, 
And pure as snow upon the peak's bald crag, 
And rich in female charms as she that came 
From foam that flecked the blue iEgean wave, 
No lesser power could draw a Christian man 
Unto a daughter of a heathen race. 

But first the heathen stain by Christian rite 
Was washed away, and Pocahontas knew 
Her Indian name no more. Rebecca hight 
At christening, My Lady now she was 
To all who spake to her in English tongue. 

7i 



HER SUPREMEST ACT. 

The future lay beyond her power to guide ; 
The forces she had set in motion soon 
Would gather strength to overcome the lust 
And pride of blood, or in the mighty tide 
Of immigration of the higher race 
Be lost forever 'neath the stormy waves 
Of passion, fierce, relentless as the sea 
When lashed to wrath by adverse driven winds. 

'Twas meet that it be so ; for she was changed. 
The menial station of the savage squaw, 
Her life of hardship and her narrow lot, 
In all their naked ugliness appeared, 
And made henceforth to her the Indian life 
Impossible ; and yet she loved her kind. 

So she who oft had cast herself between 
Two snarling peoples now would link them fast, 
"And make them friends," as softly whispered Rolfe 
Beneath a great oak's boughs, where once before 
From other lips had come the same sweet tale. 
But now the plaintive minor found her heart 
Half open and slipped in, and they were wed. 
Matoaka's supremest act was done. 

72 



CRYSTAL STREAM! 

O crystal stream from the mountain high, 
Where the ozone dwells in the land of the sky, 
Thou hasteneth down o'er thy pebbly bed, 
With laugh and leap as thou art led 
In the track that was shaped when the crust of earth 
Took final form from her fearful birth, 
By the hand that made from the molten mass 
The rocks and the hills and the blades of grass, ■ 
To mingle thy life so pure and sweet 
With the yellow stream at the mountain's feet ! 
Ah ! rushing stream, thou wouldst make like thee 
The river that creeps with its slime to the sea ! 

The murky waters of racial hate 
Flow on unchanged by the pitiless fate 
Of the futile efforts of one or two. 

Ah ! Master Rolfe, with thy heart so true, 
Thou wouldst hush the cry of the white and red — 
An Indian princess loyally wed — 

73 



CRYSTAL STREAM 



The heathen thus lead into Christian faith! 
Thy dream was fair as a beautiful wraith 
Of cloud. Thou bravely didst thy part ; 
The rest was God's. Thou gavest thy heart; 
But the brooklet was, alas ! too small 
To cleanse the stream, though it gave its all. 



74 



THE HONEYMOON. 

It waxed and waned, the honey-dripping moon, 
And with its magic mist enfolded grief, 
As moonlight doth the palm on coral reef — 
Not fierce and withering as the sun at noon — 
Which stands so still beside the waves that croon 
And sucks in life through every root and leaf. 
It waned and passed, and seemed a thing so brief, 
And yet so full of life, sweet nature's boon, 
That in the noontide glare of after days 

And withering light of truth unveiled, no blight 
Of fruit, no stint of faithful service due 
From heart to heart revealed to vulgar gaze 
The settled calm to live within the right, 
Make most of life, and to her heart be true. 



75 



MOTHER LOVE. 

O woman heart, that leaped when fell the chime 
Of wedding bell upon thy listening ear, 
And trembled with sweet joy and secret fear 
Lest hope find not its own in that new clime ; 
The joy that filled thee in the after time, 
When to thyself thou pressed thy baby near, 
Beyond compare more precious and more dear 
With deeper thrills made life appear sublime ! 
O mother love ! save love to God himself, 
Sublimest feeling known to human breast, 

Instinct the strongest that the beast may know, 
O gift of God ! beyond the greed of pelf 
Thou bidst arise and dare achieve the crest, 
Although it lie beneath the eternal snow. 



76 



AN OLD STORY RETOLD. 

"Blow gently, winds, upon the Atlantic, blow 
And swiftly waft unto fair England's isle 
The Princess of the West, the Nonpareille, 
And bring her safely back to us again." 

So sang the crowd at Jamestown from the pier, 
As slowly filled the great ship's sails and rose 
The fluked anchor from the river's bed, 
While water gently curled about her prow, 
To rest no more until beyond the sea 
Her wings were folded in the English port. 

The breath of spring had burst the buds and brought 
The birds and bees. To northern parts had flown 
The winter wild fowl with their clanging notes, 
And in their stead the laughing gull and tern 
With call and scream pursued their finny prey. 
The April sunshine through a mist of rain 
Against the sky the bow of promise hung* 
On board about brave lips like sunbeams played 
Glad smiles, while teardrops mingled with the rain. 

77 



AN OLD STORY RETOLD. 

At last the weary weeks had slipped away ; 
The anchor dropped, the sea with all its moods 
Of calm and storm, its vastness and its might, 
Became a dream, and busy human life 
With wonder held the simple minds of those 
Accustomed only to the western wilds. 

The Indian princess bore herself at court 
With quiet dignity and grace, and wrung 
From haughty English lips sweet words of praise. 

The daughter of a king, the nation's guest, 
Must see the best of busy London life. 
And join the idle, pleasure-seeking throng 
That ate and drank and danced and rode and played. 
So, when the flaring flambeaux lit the Globe, 
The assembled nobles whiled away the hours 
In listening to the actors mouth and prate 
Sometimes the loftiest verse ere penned by man. 

One eve the Princess of Virginia sat 
Near to the Queen beside a trusty friend, 
Who in the days agone had known her well, 
And him whom now she thought above the stars; 
By common impulse both, between the acts, 

78 



AN OLD STORY RETOLD. 

Across the noisy seats aweary looked, 
And lo ! Virginia's Captain calmly stood 
Half-shaded by the tapestry and gazed 
Into their startled eyes profoundly sad. 
She trembled as a fawn at sight of wolf, 
And turning as to go she saw that he 
Beside her saw him too, and softly said : 
"They told me sure that he was dead ; but see !" 
Thereat she hid her face and saw no more 
The stage nor heeded how the dressed-up boys 
Made ludicrous the female roles they played. 

That night beside a sleeping husband, with 
Her boy in arms, she lay awake and told 
The laggard hours off in puzzled thought. 

But now the life of London palled on her ; 
She wearied of its farce, and longed again 
To rest from rush and roar of city streets 
And heartless pride of drawing-room parade, 
Beneath the giant oaks of her own land, 
Beside the Powhatan's impassive stream, 
And live once more a life sincere and true. 

A few days passed. At eventide alone 



AN OLD STORY RETOLD. 

She wandered down a garden's shaded walk, 
As was her wont. The perfume-laden air 
Was still. In undertones the city's .din, 
Subdued, invited secret thought and rest. 
She turned with eyes upon the pebbled walk 
Into a bower hid by climbing vines, 
And started like a frightened thing when he 
Within arose and spake with bow profound: 

"My lady, pardon, that I see thee thus ; 
I go away and wished to speak with thee.'' 

She looked into his eyes intently, then : 
"Why callst me thus ? Thou must not call me thus. 

"Thou art a princess, wife of Rolfe ; I must 
Do honor to thy wifehood and thy rank." 

"Thou call'dst me Nonparella and thy child 
When I was in my people's land. Dost fear 
To call me so in thine own land? I tell 
Thee I'm the same. I know not how to change." 
"And yet thou canst forget !" 

"They told me thou 
Wert dead. I waited long. And then by force 
They brought me captive, made me live among 

80 



AN OLD STORY RETOLD. 

Thy people, till I thought it right to wed 
And thus my promise keep to keep the peace 
Between the red and white. Thy people lie 
As dead leaves fall in autumn to the ground." 

"O hadst thou waited!" 

Then the strong man looked 
Away unto the cloudland, mountains high, 
Above the soiled city, pure and white, 
Until it seemed his troubled spirits drank 
From them the needed strength, and then he spake: 

"This hour is precious. Let us brush away 
This once the cobwebs of the world's wise ways, 
In sight of God speak truth, and then farewell, 
And live our lives as best we may until 
We pass above yon cloud, where all is right." 

He took her hand and led her to the seat ; 
Her dark eyes shone with tears, and he went on : 

"I tried to come to thee, but angry seas 
Forbade me. Wrecked, a passing ship took me 
To France. At last I came to England, where 
I found, ere I could go to thee, I must 
Refute by life and deeds the evil tales 
6 Si 



AN OLD STORY RETOLD. 

Of wicked men in chains to selfish lusts. 

I could not bring my Nonparella's heart 

To grief; and so I worked and waited for 

The hour that cannot come. 'Tis but the truth 

To say : 'Thou canst not give me back my heart.' 

The broken shell can ne'er be whole again ; 

I shall not see thee more, no more return 

To those old haunts of ours ! 'Twould be too hard. 

I'll mingle now with action, stern, severe, 

Nor turn aside unto that sweeter life 

That I have known in dreams since last thy hand 

I felt responsive to my own pulse-beats. 

Be brave, Matoaka, be brave ; go back 

And lead thy people in a better way, 

And know that when our hearts are free again 

Above yon cloud, mayhap, we'll know 'twas best." 

She closed her fingers on her knees, and said : 
"Sith thou'rt alive, I would that I were dead !" 

The silent moments passed, and then the call 
Of some street arab to his fellow broke 
The spell. They both arose. "Matoaka" — 

82 



AN OLD STORY RETOLD. 

He used the name by which he knew her first — 
"I owe thee more than life ; be brave. Farewell !" 
One moment, and his lips her forehead pressed, 
And he was gone ere she could lift her own. 
And in the days that came he kept his word, 
Explored New England's coast and turned men's minds 
Unto that waiting land. Too noble and 
Too just to covet wealth or seek reward 
Of honor due, he made his bitter foes 
The crowd that followed in his wake like daws 
Behind the plow to seize the upturned feast. 
And so he died unhonored by his own. 
Within her burned his parting words until 
The day approached to sail unto her own 
And do her part to bring his words to pass, 
When ruthless fever seized her tired frame, 
And ere the vessel sailed her heart was free. 



83 



AFTERTHOUGHTS. 

How strange we often know not when life's tide 

Is flood or when the golden moment holds 

The brimming- chalice of life's rarest wine 

And bids us drink the quickening draught and rise 

To do God's will ! How strange that two strong lives 

Should touch, then steer apart to leave undone 

What only their united strength might do, 

And miss the natural fruitage of their lives 

As lovely flowers that nor bee nor breeze 

Hath quickened with the golden dust of each ! 

Shortsighted men may nobly dare their all 
To bring to pass what man can ne'er achieve. 
And die unconscious that they've left behind 
The noblest legacy of man to man — 
Sublime devotion to the soul's ideals 
That shall not fail to reach the hearts of men 

84 



AFTERTHOUGHTS. 

And quicken them to nobler aims and acts 
So long as love and truth can master men. 
So from the conflict of that earlier age, 
As from volcanic stress and seismic throe, 
Sometimes the rarest gem is brought to* light. 
The story of the Indian girl survives, 
More precious far than rarest gem of earth, 
To charm us with its beauty, and to touch 
Us with the pathos of its woe and lift 
Our thoughts above our selfish lives to Hio 
Whose ways are often past our finding out ; 
And yet through blinding mist and dreary gloom 
Tlie unseen hand doth sometimes throw athwart 
The way a gleam to guide us into right. 



85 



GOD OVER ALL. 

Into the blue the condor ariseth 

Strongly and boldly above the world ; 

Over the blue the whale-bird abideth, 
Resting securely upon the waves ; 

Over the whole the Lord God presideth ; 
Creatures and elements feel his hand. 



86 



AFTERWORD. 

i. 

Full three hundred times the willows 
Have been stripped by winter's hand 

Since the maiden, Pocahontas, 
Pressed the yellow river's sand. 

Just below a snowy islet, 

Drifting in cerulean blue, 
Floats an eagle, hoary-headed, 

Like a mote upon the view, 

Gazing on the panorama 
Of the earth and sea below, 

As his father's father floated 
Full three hundred years ago. 

Then the dark and tangled forest 
Hid the crouching cougar's lair ; 

Now the field of corn is waving 
Gently in the summer air. 
87 



AFTERWORD. 

Then the highlands and the lowlands, 
Pierced by lines of burnished gold 

Radiate from a silver mirror, 
Virgin pictures of the old, 

Lay as they had lain when England 
First by foot of man was trod, 

Changed alone by nature's fingers 
Working with the tools of God. 

Now upon the older picture 

Touches of another hand 
Greet the hoary-headed flier 

From the sea and from the land. 

White sails glisten on the waters, 
And a smoky trail of black, 

Cloudlike vapor, upward rising, 

Marks the throbbing steamer's track. 

Where of old the ospreys nested 
In the barren arms of pine, 



AFTERWORD. 

High above the darksome tangle 
Of the myrtle and the vine, 

Now the city spire o'erlooketh 
Crowded piles of brick and stone, 

Crossing streets and tangled alleys 
Webbed with wires of telephone. 

Gone the dreams of Pocahontas, 
Like the mists of early dawn, 

Driven from their homes her people 
By the white man's brain and brawn. 

Fiercely fought, then passed forever 
From the forest and the glen, 

With their legends and their language, 
From the memories of men, 

Save that still on land and river, 
Here and there, an Indian name 

Holds our storied past more surely 
Than could chiseled shafts of fame. 



AFTERWORD. 



II. 



O thou mother State, Virginia! 

Teeth of time shall ne'er efface 
Record written by thy children 

From the story of the race. 

From the days of Jamestown to the 

Exposition of to-day, 
Sons of thine through virgin forests 

Steadily have blazed the way. 

Warriors, statesmen, educators 
To the world have shown a light 

That has lighted millions groping 
In a medieval night. 

Washington and Lee, immortal, 
Stand like peaks in matchless glow, 

In the glare of summer sunshine, 
In the glint of winter's snow. 

First in war and first in peace, they 
Scorned to abuse the people's trust; 
90 



AFTERWORD. 

Glorious standards set forever 
High above unholy lust. 

Jefferson and Patrick Henry, 
Giants each without compare, 

Brave and thoughtful, true and loyal, 
Eager each to do and dare ; 

Jefferson, the deep-browed thinker, 

Wielder of a mighty pen, 
Statesman, seer, freedom's champion, 

Formed and fashioned minds of men. 

Henry, gifted child of genius, 
Caught the spirit of the hour ; 

With his winged words of passion 
Swept away tradition's power. 

In thy modest halls of learning 
Sons of thine, O mother State ! 

Ushering in another epoch, 

Set themselves to guard thy fate. 
91 



AFTER WORD. 

In a small Virginia college 

English first took rank with Greek; 

Soon Columbia bade the master 
Fly his ensign from her peak. 

in. 

Evolution is the watchword; 

Onward, upward is the cry ; 
Dig from earth her idle treasures, 

Wring the secrets from the sky. 

Resting not in past achievement, 
While perfection is not here ; 

Shaping, molding soul and body, 
We would bring perfection near. 

Closer would we bind together 

North and South and East and West 

Down the petty politician, 
Selfish pilferer of the best; 

Make the good of all supremest 
In the council halls of state ; 
02 



AFTERWORD. 

Choose our leaders from the wisest 
Steerers of the wheels of fate ; 

Choose a President that feareth 
Not to break a barren sod, 

Strenuous leader of the people 
In the way that leads to God. 

Democrat? Nay. "Is he fitted 
Best to serve ?" the voters ask ; 

Party shall not usurp conscience, 
Trick the people with a mask. 

True to lofty aspirations, 

Heritage of worthy sires, 
From the altars that they builded 

Shall ascend our altar fires. 

Freed from Old World superstitions, 
Ancient habits, barren creeds, 

We have built a temple worthy 
Of our fathers' glorious deeds — 
93 



AFTERWORD. 

Where all men may come and worship 
In the form that suits them best; 

Where the flag of freedom waveth 
Welcome to the stranger guest. 

O, my country, like the eagle 

Flying in cerulean blue, 
Spread thy wings in brave endeavor 

Aye to gain a higher view ! 

Aye, to lift earth's struggling millions 
From their squalor by thy might, 

Leader of earth's leading nations, 
Onward wing thy upward flight I 



94 



AUG 2 1907 



Deacidified using the Bookkeeper proce 
Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide 
Treatment Date: Sept. 2009 

PreservationTechnoIogie 

* WORLD LEADER IN COLLECTIONS PRESERVATI 

111 Thomson Park Drive 
Cranberry Township. PA 16066 



